2013 is rapidly drawing to a close, and in just a few short days our family will be moving to our next big adventure, starting with a 90-day excursion in Chicago for Brenton's new job training. Having the year end at the cusp of a new journey for us has caused me to reflect much on this past year and our time spent in beautiful Bowling Green, Kentucky. This has been a place of great emotional healing for me. It has been a safe zone where I've had time to pause and reflect on how my past was affecting my present. So before we head into 2014 and our family heads to the Windy City, allow me to address a few things I've learned.
I finally became secure and happy enough in my life to recognize I have some very deep scars from past trauma. Some of it you are aware of, such as the scary birth of my first son, Ryan. That trauma was visibly brought to the surface during the birth of my second son, Jackson, but since his delivery went perfectly it allowed me to acknowledge the pain and heal from it. That was so freeing. I accepted the trauma, then let it go. In return I was given the precious first few days of motherhood I had never known. It has been one of the most beautiful manifestations of Christ's love for me as He helped me let go of all the pain and fear my mind and body had accepted as the reality of childbirth.
The other scars and trauma come from a part of my life most of you are unaware of. Previously I viewed those two years as a crippling weakness, a dark shadow of my life I never wanted anyone to know about. However, the events of this past year gave me the strength to seek out help, finally face the demons from my first two years of college, and acknowledge I wasn't as healed as I thought from them.
During my freshman and sophomore years of college I was involved in a severely abusive relationship. It affected my grades, family, friends, spiritual testimony, physical health, and self worth. Although I moved on and turned my life around, I thought simply suppressing all the pain was enough to carry on with the rest of my life. But this Fall when an innocent little girl grabbed my wrist hard to ask me a question and my whole body shut down, my blood pressure skyrocketed and I could barely breathe, I realized I wasn't as healed as I thought. That's when I noticed little patterns in my life that weren't normal. For example, I couldn't take the trash out at night without breaking into a cold sweat, vividly imagining I would be attacked. I couldn't roll over and look at the bedroom door in the middle of the night because I was too afraid. I couldn't go to a shooting range with my husband without breaking down into full, body-shaking sobs at the sound of a gunshot. When my little boy would throw a tantrum, often I'd put him in timeout just so he wouldn't see me emotionally shut down and cry, too. None of that is normal. It's textbook PTSD. So I faced my fear, pushed through my pride and called a therapist. It was the single best decision I made this year.
Through the help of my wonderful therapist, my incredibly supportive husband, and my relationship with my Savior I made huge (we're talking Grand Canyonesque huge) strides in letting go of all the trauma and fear associated with those two years. It has completely changed my concept of self worth, forgiveness, and mental health. In the past few months I've become a better wife and mother. I've let go of so much pain and grief and realized most of my fear was irrational and destructive. It has been so liberating!
Now I understand all this healing happened at just the right time. I was in a good place. My marriage and family were fantastic, and I had all the tools I needed to face the music, take the necessary steps to detach myself from the fear and look at it from a removed perspective. It was all part of Heavenly Father's plan for me. I don't know where Brenton's new job will take us, but I will be forever grateful for everything Kentucky has given me. I have a new son, a new perspective on childbirth, and a new perspective on life. Now I know no matter where we end up I will be more than just happy, I will thrive.
Fourteen has always been my lucky number. It makes perfect sense that I will go into 2014 a new woman, full of the confidence and strength I've always had but was brainwashed into believing wasn't there. This will finally be my year. Bring it on, 2014. This girl is on fire.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Our Mushy Romance
This past week marks six years since my and Brenton's first date. I know, this is the part where half of you think, "awwww! They're so sweet!" and the other half roll your eyes and think, "here she goes again with all that mushy romantic stuff. Gag me."
Well, that's exactly what this post is about. All that mushy stuff.
You see, when two hopeless romantics fall in love with each other, we tend to celebrate all the little stuff. First date, the day we became boyfriend and girlfriend, the day he proposed, you get the picture. But as sweet and special as all of that "mushy" stuff is, that's not the stuff I'm talking about. I didn't choose to marry Brenton because he remembers little anniversaries and buys me flowers, although those are wonderful things I appreciate about him.
I married Brenton because he pinched my nose closed today so I could swallow nasty medicine while mushy snot ran down my chin as I held our baby boy.
I married Brenton because he asks for seconds of my mushy pasta that I left on the stove too long while consoling our three-year-old who stubbed his toe.
I married Brenton because he has eyes only for me, no matter how mushy my waistline gets after having two children.
I married Brenton because he humbly changes mushy diaper after mushy diaper without a single complaint.
I married Brenton because he mows the mushy, overgrown lawn after a rainstorm so I don't have to.
I married Brenton because he still wraps me in his arms after a long day, even if my shirt is covered in mushed up baby food.
I married Brenton because he sits down and watches mushy movies with me that he wouldn't choose himself.
I married Brenton because he knew our marriage wouldn't always be perfect or easy.
Because when real life sets in, it's messy. It's mushy, often mundane, and exhausting. I think that's why we love celebrating all the little things so much, because it brings back the spark of what caused us to fall in love in the first place. But those sparks aren't the real reason we made the eternal commitment to be together. Our love is a strong fire built on work, trust, sacrifice, and unfailing loyalty. And those things are what sustain us through the rest of the mushy stuff.
So even though I hoped to spend today celebrating the 6th anniversary of our first date by splitting a butterbeer at Starbucks and perusing the half-priced bookstore being all mushy and starstruck, I was reminded of the true, deep, sincere love we have for each other as I used up an entire box of tissues on the couch while Brenton took care of our boys. That's real love, and I'm so blessed I found a man who understands it. Here's to another year of all that mushy stuff.
Well, that's exactly what this post is about. All that mushy stuff.
You see, when two hopeless romantics fall in love with each other, we tend to celebrate all the little stuff. First date, the day we became boyfriend and girlfriend, the day he proposed, you get the picture. But as sweet and special as all of that "mushy" stuff is, that's not the stuff I'm talking about. I didn't choose to marry Brenton because he remembers little anniversaries and buys me flowers, although those are wonderful things I appreciate about him.
I married Brenton because he pinched my nose closed today so I could swallow nasty medicine while mushy snot ran down my chin as I held our baby boy.
I married Brenton because he asks for seconds of my mushy pasta that I left on the stove too long while consoling our three-year-old who stubbed his toe.
I married Brenton because he has eyes only for me, no matter how mushy my waistline gets after having two children.
I married Brenton because he humbly changes mushy diaper after mushy diaper without a single complaint.
I married Brenton because he mows the mushy, overgrown lawn after a rainstorm so I don't have to.
I married Brenton because he still wraps me in his arms after a long day, even if my shirt is covered in mushed up baby food.
I married Brenton because he sits down and watches mushy movies with me that he wouldn't choose himself.
I married Brenton because he knew our marriage wouldn't always be perfect or easy.
Because when real life sets in, it's messy. It's mushy, often mundane, and exhausting. I think that's why we love celebrating all the little things so much, because it brings back the spark of what caused us to fall in love in the first place. But those sparks aren't the real reason we made the eternal commitment to be together. Our love is a strong fire built on work, trust, sacrifice, and unfailing loyalty. And those things are what sustain us through the rest of the mushy stuff.
So even though I hoped to spend today celebrating the 6th anniversary of our first date by splitting a butterbeer at Starbucks and perusing the half-priced bookstore being all mushy and starstruck, I was reminded of the true, deep, sincere love we have for each other as I used up an entire box of tissues on the couch while Brenton took care of our boys. That's real love, and I'm so blessed I found a man who understands it. Here's to another year of all that mushy stuff.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Live Your Dreams
One of my favorite songs of all time is "Rainbow Connection" sung by the timeless Kermit The Frog. It's a song about dreams, and how believing in stars or wishes is really just a catalyst for believing in yourself. Since I was a little girl, every time I hear those opening notes I picture Mr. The Frog sitting in the middle of a pond, strumming the banjo. It's what has always sparked my desire to learn to play it someday.
Someday.
Our lives are full of somedays. "Someday I'll do this, go there, learn this, try that. Someday, someday, someday. One of the biggest roadblocks to Someday is having children. Don't misunderstand me. Marrying my husband and having our two boys have been the three best decisions and greatest dreams of my life. I don't regret any of it for a second, and they more than make up for the sacrifices I make on their behalf. But when you're a mother, many if not most of your own personal aspirations get set aside in order to raise your children. At the end of the day the hours and money just don't add up for anything extra. That's why everything gets pushed to Someday.
About a month or so ago it came up in conversation with my mother that I've always dreamed of playing the banjo. But it's not a priority, it's a Someday dream. One that when push comes to shove will probably never happen, but is still fun to talk about because it makes me believe someday I will have time to persue new things for myself.
A week ago when when my parents were here visiting, my mother said they had an early birthday gift to give me. (My birthday's in December). And there it was: a beautiful, Kermit-approved banjo. I couldn't believe it! It meant so much more to me than just a really cool instrument that I couldn't wait to start playing. To me it was a symbol of never giving up on my dreams. Yes, being a mother takes a lot of time, and there are always going to be things I will put aside for Someday. But that doesn't mean I have to give up on myself. There are dreams I can persue now, and that's important. It will make me a better mom by taking time for some of my own dreams, too.
It has been such a blast learning how to play one of the coolest instruments ever. I feel like a million bucks every time I sit down to practice. And guess what song I learned first?
Someday.
Our lives are full of somedays. "Someday I'll do this, go there, learn this, try that. Someday, someday, someday. One of the biggest roadblocks to Someday is having children. Don't misunderstand me. Marrying my husband and having our two boys have been the three best decisions and greatest dreams of my life. I don't regret any of it for a second, and they more than make up for the sacrifices I make on their behalf. But when you're a mother, many if not most of your own personal aspirations get set aside in order to raise your children. At the end of the day the hours and money just don't add up for anything extra. That's why everything gets pushed to Someday.
About a month or so ago it came up in conversation with my mother that I've always dreamed of playing the banjo. But it's not a priority, it's a Someday dream. One that when push comes to shove will probably never happen, but is still fun to talk about because it makes me believe someday I will have time to persue new things for myself.
A week ago when when my parents were here visiting, my mother said they had an early birthday gift to give me. (My birthday's in December). And there it was: a beautiful, Kermit-approved banjo. I couldn't believe it! It meant so much more to me than just a really cool instrument that I couldn't wait to start playing. To me it was a symbol of never giving up on my dreams. Yes, being a mother takes a lot of time, and there are always going to be things I will put aside for Someday. But that doesn't mean I have to give up on myself. There are dreams I can persue now, and that's important. It will make me a better mom by taking time for some of my own dreams, too.
It has been such a blast learning how to play one of the coolest instruments ever. I feel like a million bucks every time I sit down to practice. And guess what song I learned first?
Saturday, September 14, 2013
An Appointment at Vanderbilt
This past Thursday Ryan had a doctor's appointment at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. It was nothing serious. At his three-year wellness appointment his pediatrician noticed his hip and leg alignment was a bit uneven, and that he has flat feet. He wanted pediatric orthopedics to see if there was anything we needed to do to fix it, and the closest office was at Vanderbilt. For those unfamiliar with the hospital, it's top notch. Like St. Jude, it's a research hospital with many doctors known for their breakthrough procedures.
As we made our way through the building, I noticed how bright and friendly everything looked. If I didn't know better, I would have thought we were in a fun children's discovery museum. There were neat displays of toys, bright star-tiled floors and friendly staff at every turn. Everyone treated Ryan like he was a superstar. I was so touched by their kindness, knowing they treated every child that way whether he was there for a simple check-up or something far more serious.
Despite the friendly decor and cheerful staff, you could feel the tension and pressure of the hospital's purpose at every turn. The air was thick with it. The friendliness was almost unnerving because I knew the motive behind it. While you couldn't see them in the front lobbies, dozens of children were inside fighting for their lives, with devoted parents praying for a miracle. I said a silent prayer of gratitude that I wasn't one of them.
As we sat in the waiting room of orthopedics, I looked around and saw several children in wheelchairs, some with limbs curved in ways they shouldn't be, others in casts or braces. Beside each one of them was a mother and/or father, looking tired and a bit lost. But I sat there watching my healthy, three-year-old little boy hopping from one giant-painted dinosaur footprint to the next with ease. So often I forget what a miracle it is that he's even alive, let alone has no side-effects from his scary birth. He could have easily been one of the children in the upper floors of that hospital, having yet another surgery as a result of his complicated birth, with me and Brenton anxiously pacing the halls, praying for yet another miracle. But he wasn't, and we weren't.
As it turns out, the very friendly and wonderful doctors informed us Ryan's knocked knees are nothing to worry about, and will correct themselves over time. They had him run up and down the hallway giving the staff high fives to check his alignment. And we also learned his flat feet are just genetically built that way, inherited from his daddy. There's nothing to do because Ryan's feet have beautiful arches, they just disappear when he stands. If he has pain we can give him extra arch support in his shoes, but that's it. No big deal. He skipped out of the room all smiles, proudly showing off the Mickey Mouse sticker he put on his shirt upside down in order to face him as he looked at it.
We enjoyed the rest of the day as a family in Nashville, and as I watched Ryan run, laugh and play while I pushed Jackson in the stroller, my heart was so full of gratitude for my two healthy, beautiful children. Later, I sat in the car feeding Jackson and said a prayer for those parents who didn't get to leave the hospital that day to take their children to the park. I thanked the Lord for my family and for the precious gift of their health. It made me hold them a little tighter that night before bedtime kisses. I sure love my family: flat feet, knock knees and all.
As we made our way through the building, I noticed how bright and friendly everything looked. If I didn't know better, I would have thought we were in a fun children's discovery museum. There were neat displays of toys, bright star-tiled floors and friendly staff at every turn. Everyone treated Ryan like he was a superstar. I was so touched by their kindness, knowing they treated every child that way whether he was there for a simple check-up or something far more serious.
Despite the friendly decor and cheerful staff, you could feel the tension and pressure of the hospital's purpose at every turn. The air was thick with it. The friendliness was almost unnerving because I knew the motive behind it. While you couldn't see them in the front lobbies, dozens of children were inside fighting for their lives, with devoted parents praying for a miracle. I said a silent prayer of gratitude that I wasn't one of them.
As we sat in the waiting room of orthopedics, I looked around and saw several children in wheelchairs, some with limbs curved in ways they shouldn't be, others in casts or braces. Beside each one of them was a mother and/or father, looking tired and a bit lost. But I sat there watching my healthy, three-year-old little boy hopping from one giant-painted dinosaur footprint to the next with ease. So often I forget what a miracle it is that he's even alive, let alone has no side-effects from his scary birth. He could have easily been one of the children in the upper floors of that hospital, having yet another surgery as a result of his complicated birth, with me and Brenton anxiously pacing the halls, praying for yet another miracle. But he wasn't, and we weren't.
As it turns out, the very friendly and wonderful doctors informed us Ryan's knocked knees are nothing to worry about, and will correct themselves over time. They had him run up and down the hallway giving the staff high fives to check his alignment. And we also learned his flat feet are just genetically built that way, inherited from his daddy. There's nothing to do because Ryan's feet have beautiful arches, they just disappear when he stands. If he has pain we can give him extra arch support in his shoes, but that's it. No big deal. He skipped out of the room all smiles, proudly showing off the Mickey Mouse sticker he put on his shirt upside down in order to face him as he looked at it.
We enjoyed the rest of the day as a family in Nashville, and as I watched Ryan run, laugh and play while I pushed Jackson in the stroller, my heart was so full of gratitude for my two healthy, beautiful children. Later, I sat in the car feeding Jackson and said a prayer for those parents who didn't get to leave the hospital that day to take their children to the park. I thanked the Lord for my family and for the precious gift of their health. It made me hold them a little tighter that night before bedtime kisses. I sure love my family: flat feet, knock knees and all.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Jackson Rafael Hoyos' Birth Story
My heart is so full it's hard to know where to start. Jackson's birth was a completely different experience from Ryan's. It was a day of great emotional healing for me. I had never experienced a birth where everything went right. I didn't realize how big the hole was in my heart after Ryan's birth, and how Jackson's would fill all the loss I'd been suppressing for nearly three years. But it really did, every whit.
The night before Jackson's scheduled delivery I hardly slept. I was far too excited/nervous, not to mention uncomfortable with a full-term baby inside of me. Luckily, we had to be at the hospital very early so at 4:15AM I gratefully got out of bed to get dressed and ready to go. After packing up some last minute things and Brenton eating breakfast (I had to fast), we loaded everything up and set out for the hospital. I felt so calm during the drive. With no traffic the trip flew by as we followed the pink sunrise to the hospital.
Upon arrival Brenton gave me a blessing stating all would be well and Jackson would be perfectly healthy. I felt calm and very prepared as we walked into the hospital together. After registration and making sure my orders were correct, they taped on my wrist band and lead me to Labor and Delivery. There was no rush, no panic, just friendly nurses who chatted away as I laid on the bed and started an IV of fluids. I began to feel the excitement of knowing in just another hour I'd be holding Jackson. It buoyed me up as they took a blood sample and I swallowed the nasty antacid suspension. Then it was time for Brenton to suit up in his scrubs for the OR.
At this point I was ready to be moved to final prep before surgery. This was the part I was most dreading because I knew it would hurt and Brenton couldn't be in the room with me. Suddenly, I was filled with anxiety as my mind flashed back to Ryan's traumatic delivery. I began to sob uncontrollably almost out of nowhere. It was completely unexpected. I knew all would be well. I knew nothing that happened during Ryan's delivery would happen with Jackson's, but being back in a hospital setting flooded my mind with all the fears and emotions I had suppressed for three years. No matter how I tried I couldn't get myself to calm down. I sobbed all the way down the hall as I was wheeled to the room for the spinal block and waited. Noticing it was taking a while for the doctors to come, Brenton asked if he could sit with me until they performed the spinal block. The nurses agreed and I began to calm down. I felt so foolish for falling apart like that, but I really had no control over it. Thankfully, with Brenton holding my hand and stroking my hair I was able to compose myself somewhat until Dr. South arrived and it was time for the spinal block.
My anxiety returned somewhat when Brenton had to leave, but knowing Dr. South was there and we were minutes away from the surgery gave me strength to handle the spinal block on my own. The nurses and anesthesiologist were very kind. One of the nurses kept talking to me, asking me questions about Jackson to keep me distracted. It was very helpful, and even though I was still crying, it kept my mind off the pain. After a few minutes the spinal block was in and I was wheeled to the operating room.
At this point my anxiety was at its greatest. The last time I was in an operating room was very scary, and the memory of it was almost too much to handle. I was so terrified I began to shake. They brought Brenton in quickly and he helped me calm down significantly. Then, almost as soon as it had started, I stopped crying. I felt a wave of peace flood over me and knew everything was going to be just fine. The worst was over, and in minutes Jackson would be born. As this wasn't an emergency c-section, Dr. South was able to carefully take her time with each layer of the incision. I paid much more attention to what was happening to my body. There was a lot of pressure, and instead of the baby being pulled out of the birth canal as Ryan was, I felt them push down on my stomach to help Jackson come out. It was so much pressure at one point I couldn't breathe. Most importantly I wanted to hear Jackson's first cry. I never heard Ryan's as he was unresponsive at birth. I was afraid it would be too noisy and I'd miss it, so I kept asking the nurses, "is he coming?" about every thirty seconds.
Before we knew it, Jackson was pulled out and Dr. South said, "what a chubby guy! He's huge!," and then I heard it: Jackson's first cry. It was a culmination of relief, joy, gratitude, and love. They brought him over to me right away. I felt his tiny hand that moments earlier was in my belly, wrap around my finger as I watched his perfectly healthy lungs rise and fall with his first breaths. Brenton was right next to me; our baby was fine. It was the moment I had dreamed and wished for three years ago but never got. It was perfect, and more beautiful than I imagined. Jackson Rafael Hoyos was born July 24th, 2013, at 7:59 AM weighing 8 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long.
They put a diaper on Jackson and wiped him down, then placed him on my chest. I felt as though my heart couldn't possibly hold all the love I felt for my sweet baby boy. Just minutes earlier he had been inside me, and now here he was, resting peacefully on my chest, perfect as could be. After a minute or two the nurse adjusted him so he could try to breastfeed. Almost instinctively, Jackson rooted and began to nurse. The other doctors in the OR couldn't believe it. Apparently it is very rare for c-section babies to nurse right after being born. They said they'd only ever seen it happen twice before. I was so proud of him!
Dr. South took extra care with stitching me up to minimize scar tissue, and then I was wheeled to Recovery to be cleaned up. Brenton went to the Nursery where Jackson was cleaned, weighed, and measured. I missed them so much, but couldn't leave Recovery until I could move my toes on my own. I remember staring at my feet, willing every neuron in my brain to make them move, but they just sat there, discouragingly still. Every ten minutes a nurse would come and massage my tummy to help my uterus contract, and each time it hurt more and more, which was a good sign the spinal block was fading. They'd ask, "can you move your toes?" and I felt like a six-year-old misspelling the word 'cat' as my feet stubbornly refused to move. The nurse would give me a patronizing smirk and say, "I guess we'll try again later, won't we?" It was maddening. Finally, I begged one of the nurses to bring Jackson while I waited for the spinal block to wear off. After a few minutes of lecturing and informing me it wasn't procedure to bring the baby into Recovery, I stubbornly insisted they bring him anyway. Looking distinctly ruffled, the nurse called up to the Nursery and a minute later Brenton and Jackson were wheeled into my little partitioned bed space. I was so happy to hold my baby I didn't even realize my feet started moving seconds later. I covered his little face with kisses, and the nurses upon seeing my wriggling toes quickly released me to Postpartum, just like that.
At this point we were ready to call parents and family to announce the good news. Jackson was finally here, safe and sound! My wonderful doctor didn't make me wait 24 hours to eat solid food and had Dining Services bring up a huge celebratory breakfast. Brenton called family while I inhaled my food gratefully. I couldn't believe Jackson was resting so peacefully with me and doctors weren't coming in left and right to check on him. He wasn't hooked up to any monitors or being given any medicines. No one came in insisting they take him away for tests or scans. Everything was different from what I experienced with Ryan. I had all the time in the world to bond with my baby. It was wonderful.
It wasn't until Jackson was born and safely in my arms that I realized how much healing I desperately needed from Ryan's birth. I had no idea how scarred his delivery had made me, and how warped my perception of childbirth was because of it. While I knew Jackson was my second child, for those first 48 hours it was as if I was experiencing motherhood for the very first time, getting to enjoy all the precious first moments I'd dreamed of having but never received. Jackson's birth filled the gaping hole in my heart I never realized was left there. After only two days in the hospital, we were both discharged. It was wonderful to go home all together with no legal battles, haggling with nurses, or flood of paperwork to fill out.
A year ago I was writing posts about the heartbreak of negative pregnancy tests month after month. Now here I sit cradling my sweet baby in my arms, filled with so much gratitude my heart could burst. I have two miraculous little boys. Ryan is proof that miracles happen in a sincere moment of need. Jackson is proof that prayers are answered and the Lord keeps his promises. I am so in love with my sons. They are my two greatest achievements. In a very special blessing I was given in my youth I was told I'd have a "great posterity to raise up unto the Lord." I always assumed that meant I'd have a lot of kids. But maybe it means while my children may be few in number, they will be truly great. Looking into their sweet faces, how could it be anything but the latter?
For those who missed it on my Facebook page, here is a photo slideshow of Jackson's birth. We're so happy he's finally here!
The night before Jackson's scheduled delivery I hardly slept. I was far too excited/nervous, not to mention uncomfortable with a full-term baby inside of me. Luckily, we had to be at the hospital very early so at 4:15AM I gratefully got out of bed to get dressed and ready to go. After packing up some last minute things and Brenton eating breakfast (I had to fast), we loaded everything up and set out for the hospital. I felt so calm during the drive. With no traffic the trip flew by as we followed the pink sunrise to the hospital.
Upon arrival Brenton gave me a blessing stating all would be well and Jackson would be perfectly healthy. I felt calm and very prepared as we walked into the hospital together. After registration and making sure my orders were correct, they taped on my wrist band and lead me to Labor and Delivery. There was no rush, no panic, just friendly nurses who chatted away as I laid on the bed and started an IV of fluids. I began to feel the excitement of knowing in just another hour I'd be holding Jackson. It buoyed me up as they took a blood sample and I swallowed the nasty antacid suspension. Then it was time for Brenton to suit up in his scrubs for the OR.
At this point I was ready to be moved to final prep before surgery. This was the part I was most dreading because I knew it would hurt and Brenton couldn't be in the room with me. Suddenly, I was filled with anxiety as my mind flashed back to Ryan's traumatic delivery. I began to sob uncontrollably almost out of nowhere. It was completely unexpected. I knew all would be well. I knew nothing that happened during Ryan's delivery would happen with Jackson's, but being back in a hospital setting flooded my mind with all the fears and emotions I had suppressed for three years. No matter how I tried I couldn't get myself to calm down. I sobbed all the way down the hall as I was wheeled to the room for the spinal block and waited. Noticing it was taking a while for the doctors to come, Brenton asked if he could sit with me until they performed the spinal block. The nurses agreed and I began to calm down. I felt so foolish for falling apart like that, but I really had no control over it. Thankfully, with Brenton holding my hand and stroking my hair I was able to compose myself somewhat until Dr. South arrived and it was time for the spinal block.
My anxiety returned somewhat when Brenton had to leave, but knowing Dr. South was there and we were minutes away from the surgery gave me strength to handle the spinal block on my own. The nurses and anesthesiologist were very kind. One of the nurses kept talking to me, asking me questions about Jackson to keep me distracted. It was very helpful, and even though I was still crying, it kept my mind off the pain. After a few minutes the spinal block was in and I was wheeled to the operating room.
At this point my anxiety was at its greatest. The last time I was in an operating room was very scary, and the memory of it was almost too much to handle. I was so terrified I began to shake. They brought Brenton in quickly and he helped me calm down significantly. Then, almost as soon as it had started, I stopped crying. I felt a wave of peace flood over me and knew everything was going to be just fine. The worst was over, and in minutes Jackson would be born. As this wasn't an emergency c-section, Dr. South was able to carefully take her time with each layer of the incision. I paid much more attention to what was happening to my body. There was a lot of pressure, and instead of the baby being pulled out of the birth canal as Ryan was, I felt them push down on my stomach to help Jackson come out. It was so much pressure at one point I couldn't breathe. Most importantly I wanted to hear Jackson's first cry. I never heard Ryan's as he was unresponsive at birth. I was afraid it would be too noisy and I'd miss it, so I kept asking the nurses, "is he coming?" about every thirty seconds.
Before we knew it, Jackson was pulled out and Dr. South said, "what a chubby guy! He's huge!," and then I heard it: Jackson's first cry. It was a culmination of relief, joy, gratitude, and love. They brought him over to me right away. I felt his tiny hand that moments earlier was in my belly, wrap around my finger as I watched his perfectly healthy lungs rise and fall with his first breaths. Brenton was right next to me; our baby was fine. It was the moment I had dreamed and wished for three years ago but never got. It was perfect, and more beautiful than I imagined. Jackson Rafael Hoyos was born July 24th, 2013, at 7:59 AM weighing 8 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long.
They put a diaper on Jackson and wiped him down, then placed him on my chest. I felt as though my heart couldn't possibly hold all the love I felt for my sweet baby boy. Just minutes earlier he had been inside me, and now here he was, resting peacefully on my chest, perfect as could be. After a minute or two the nurse adjusted him so he could try to breastfeed. Almost instinctively, Jackson rooted and began to nurse. The other doctors in the OR couldn't believe it. Apparently it is very rare for c-section babies to nurse right after being born. They said they'd only ever seen it happen twice before. I was so proud of him!
Dr. South took extra care with stitching me up to minimize scar tissue, and then I was wheeled to Recovery to be cleaned up. Brenton went to the Nursery where Jackson was cleaned, weighed, and measured. I missed them so much, but couldn't leave Recovery until I could move my toes on my own. I remember staring at my feet, willing every neuron in my brain to make them move, but they just sat there, discouragingly still. Every ten minutes a nurse would come and massage my tummy to help my uterus contract, and each time it hurt more and more, which was a good sign the spinal block was fading. They'd ask, "can you move your toes?" and I felt like a six-year-old misspelling the word 'cat' as my feet stubbornly refused to move. The nurse would give me a patronizing smirk and say, "I guess we'll try again later, won't we?" It was maddening. Finally, I begged one of the nurses to bring Jackson while I waited for the spinal block to wear off. After a few minutes of lecturing and informing me it wasn't procedure to bring the baby into Recovery, I stubbornly insisted they bring him anyway. Looking distinctly ruffled, the nurse called up to the Nursery and a minute later Brenton and Jackson were wheeled into my little partitioned bed space. I was so happy to hold my baby I didn't even realize my feet started moving seconds later. I covered his little face with kisses, and the nurses upon seeing my wriggling toes quickly released me to Postpartum, just like that.
At this point we were ready to call parents and family to announce the good news. Jackson was finally here, safe and sound! My wonderful doctor didn't make me wait 24 hours to eat solid food and had Dining Services bring up a huge celebratory breakfast. Brenton called family while I inhaled my food gratefully. I couldn't believe Jackson was resting so peacefully with me and doctors weren't coming in left and right to check on him. He wasn't hooked up to any monitors or being given any medicines. No one came in insisting they take him away for tests or scans. Everything was different from what I experienced with Ryan. I had all the time in the world to bond with my baby. It was wonderful.
It wasn't until Jackson was born and safely in my arms that I realized how much healing I desperately needed from Ryan's birth. I had no idea how scarred his delivery had made me, and how warped my perception of childbirth was because of it. While I knew Jackson was my second child, for those first 48 hours it was as if I was experiencing motherhood for the very first time, getting to enjoy all the precious first moments I'd dreamed of having but never received. Jackson's birth filled the gaping hole in my heart I never realized was left there. After only two days in the hospital, we were both discharged. It was wonderful to go home all together with no legal battles, haggling with nurses, or flood of paperwork to fill out.
A year ago I was writing posts about the heartbreak of negative pregnancy tests month after month. Now here I sit cradling my sweet baby in my arms, filled with so much gratitude my heart could burst. I have two miraculous little boys. Ryan is proof that miracles happen in a sincere moment of need. Jackson is proof that prayers are answered and the Lord keeps his promises. I am so in love with my sons. They are my two greatest achievements. In a very special blessing I was given in my youth I was told I'd have a "great posterity to raise up unto the Lord." I always assumed that meant I'd have a lot of kids. But maybe it means while my children may be few in number, they will be truly great. Looking into their sweet faces, how could it be anything but the latter?
For those who missed it on my Facebook page, here is a photo slideshow of Jackson's birth. We're so happy he's finally here!
Monday, July 1, 2013
A Good Cleaning
This past Friday Brenton and I visited to the Nashville temple to perform sealings. For those unfamiliar with Latter-day Saint temples, they are different from our weekly meetinghouses. Temples are sacred buildings where church members can participate in ordinances designed to unite families forever and draw closer to God. One of these ordinances is known as a sealing, which binds marriages and families on earth for eternity. In 2009, Brenton and I were married in the Washington D.C. temple, and as part of the ceremony were sealed for time and all eternity. Because of this sacred ordinance, I know no matter what happens here on earth Brenton and I will be together forever with our children. It is one of the greatest blessings I've ever received.
The temple is also a place where that same ordinance can be performed for families who did not have the chance to be sealed during their lifetimes. We perform these sealings by proxy, meaning the same ordinance we did for ourselves is performed with both of us taking the place of those deceased. I find great comfort in knowing the Lord loves all His children and provides this opportunity for those who have passed away.
Before going to the temple, I always like to polish and clean my wedding rings. It's not part of any religious ceremony, just my own personal ritual. When I take the time to clean off the dirt and grime that comes from everyday wear, the diamonds glisten like they did the day Brenton slipped them on my finger. Then at the temple, where everything is so clean and bright, I always delight in seeing my newly shined rings sparkle under the lights. They are a symbol of the eternal commitment I made to love my husband forever, and seeing them in the temple as we perform sealings together brings the whole ordinance full circle for me.
Just as I take time to clean my rings, it reminds me to do a routine cleaning of our marriage, too. The everyday wear and tear of life can build up dirt and grime that if we don't take the time to clear away, can dim the love we once shared. On our drive to the temple I thought about ways I could be a better wife, and things I could do to keep our marriage strong. I looked for weaknesses and planned ways to improve. I shared these ideas with Brenton and told him many things I appreciate about him. When we arrived at the temple it was wonderful to sit in the sealing room together knowing I'd taken the time to clean away the problems and struggles keeping our marriage from shining as brightly as it could. As I held his hand, I was reminded of how sacred and special our marriage is, and was grateful to know it is an eternal bond. The glistening diamonds on my left hand sparkled back at me as a shiny reminder, too.
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The temple is also a place where that same ordinance can be performed for families who did not have the chance to be sealed during their lifetimes. We perform these sealings by proxy, meaning the same ordinance we did for ourselves is performed with both of us taking the place of those deceased. I find great comfort in knowing the Lord loves all His children and provides this opportunity for those who have passed away.
Before going to the temple, I always like to polish and clean my wedding rings. It's not part of any religious ceremony, just my own personal ritual. When I take the time to clean off the dirt and grime that comes from everyday wear, the diamonds glisten like they did the day Brenton slipped them on my finger. Then at the temple, where everything is so clean and bright, I always delight in seeing my newly shined rings sparkle under the lights. They are a symbol of the eternal commitment I made to love my husband forever, and seeing them in the temple as we perform sealings together brings the whole ordinance full circle for me.
Just as I take time to clean my rings, it reminds me to do a routine cleaning of our marriage, too. The everyday wear and tear of life can build up dirt and grime that if we don't take the time to clear away, can dim the love we once shared. On our drive to the temple I thought about ways I could be a better wife, and things I could do to keep our marriage strong. I looked for weaknesses and planned ways to improve. I shared these ideas with Brenton and told him many things I appreciate about him. When we arrived at the temple it was wonderful to sit in the sealing room together knowing I'd taken the time to clean away the problems and struggles keeping our marriage from shining as brightly as it could. As I held his hand, I was reminded of how sacred and special our marriage is, and was grateful to know it is an eternal bond. The glistening diamonds on my left hand sparkled back at me as a shiny reminder, too.
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Monday, June 24, 2013
One Month to Go!!!
Yes, one month from today I'm scheduled to deliver Jackson Rafael via c-section. If I go into labor before then he'll still be delivered through cesarean, but at 39 weeks he's definitely coming out. One month from today. Seeing that date flash across my phone this morning really put into perspective just how close we are to becoming a family of four.
Most days I can't wait to be done with this pregnancy. There's no getting around it: pregnancy stinks. And the thought of going another four weeks with Mr. Boxing Champ using my spleen as a punching bag and bladder as a mattress makes me cringe. Yet again, four weeks? Wow. If I had space in my freezer I'd be making meals for it like crazy. I did pack my suitcase for the hospital, install the carseat, wash and sort all the baby clothes, and make a registry for the few items we could use. I've also been working incredibly hard to make sure Ryan is as prepared as possible for Jackson's arrival. It's taken a few months of diligent patience, but I really feel we have a solid plan, and I'm so proud of my amazing son. Now I'm deep cleaning a part of the house each day since I know I won't be doing any of that for weeks after childbirth. As part of that though, I'm under strict orders not to lift anything over 10 lbs. which is why I'm so grateful Brenton's been working more from his home office and can be here to help. He's been a tremendous support, not that that's any surprise to anyone. I did, in fact, marry Captain Amazing.
I've been incredibly lazy about posting week-by-week belly shots. So before Jackson arrives, perhaps I should update that progress. I missed a few weeks here and there, but you'll get the general idea. (hint: my belly gets bigger over time!)
In case this ends up being my last post before Jackson is born, thank you to each of you for your support, love and prayers. This has been a very difficult pregnancy, and having such wonderful friends and family encouraging me through it has been invaluable. Jackson is proof that prayers are heard and answered in the Lord's way and timing. We are so grateful he is almost here!
Week 19
Week 24
Week 25
Week 26
Week 28: Forgot a picture, but this is from our 4th anniversary that week
Week 29 Forgot a photo again, but here's a picture from Mother's Day that week
Week 30
Week 31: Forgot a photo, but at the store that week I had to snap a photo of my "bun in the oven!"
Most days I can't wait to be done with this pregnancy. There's no getting around it: pregnancy stinks. And the thought of going another four weeks with Mr. Boxing Champ using my spleen as a punching bag and bladder as a mattress makes me cringe. Yet again, four weeks? Wow. If I had space in my freezer I'd be making meals for it like crazy. I did pack my suitcase for the hospital, install the carseat, wash and sort all the baby clothes, and make a registry for the few items we could use. I've also been working incredibly hard to make sure Ryan is as prepared as possible for Jackson's arrival. It's taken a few months of diligent patience, but I really feel we have a solid plan, and I'm so proud of my amazing son. Now I'm deep cleaning a part of the house each day since I know I won't be doing any of that for weeks after childbirth. As part of that though, I'm under strict orders not to lift anything over 10 lbs. which is why I'm so grateful Brenton's been working more from his home office and can be here to help. He's been a tremendous support, not that that's any surprise to anyone. I did, in fact, marry Captain Amazing.
I've been incredibly lazy about posting week-by-week belly shots. So before Jackson arrives, perhaps I should update that progress. I missed a few weeks here and there, but you'll get the general idea. (hint: my belly gets bigger over time!)
In case this ends up being my last post before Jackson is born, thank you to each of you for your support, love and prayers. This has been a very difficult pregnancy, and having such wonderful friends and family encouraging me through it has been invaluable. Jackson is proof that prayers are heard and answered in the Lord's way and timing. We are so grateful he is almost here!
Week 19
Week 20
Week 21
Week 22: Forgot to take a pic, but here's us on Easter Sunday that week.
Week 23
Week 25
Week 26
Week 27
Week 29 Forgot a photo again, but here's a picture from Mother's Day that week
Week 30
Week 31: Forgot a photo, but at the store that week I had to snap a photo of my "bun in the oven!"
Week 32: Sorry, folks. No photo for this week!
Week 33: We went to the Abernathy Family Reunion in Gatlinburg, TN this week. Here's us mini golfing.
Week 34
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Daddy's Smile, Mommy's Eyes
There is plenty I need to catch up on, but today I'm more focused on this guy:
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In a few months, Ryan's whole world is going to change. It seems he senses this, and has been vying for our attention nearly every second through both good and not-so-good behavior. In a way, it's been helpful to have him pull a personality 180 now, so we have some time to plan and figure out how to help him through this major transition. We're all adjusting and trying new ways to help him feel loved, yet not express his cravings for attention through negative behavior. We have good days and hard days, and almost everything we try takes us two steps forward one week, one step back the next, but it's getting better. While it's definitely requiring more time and effort on my part, Ryan is making me a better mom, and helping me realize not all techniques work for every child.
A few weeks ago I was chatting with my sister about the many reasons I'm so in love with Ryan. There are the obvious things, like how smart, happy, and outgoing he is, but one of my absolute favorite things about Ryan is his smile. Ryan is our first born. He's the first person ever to have both mine and Brenton's genes. He's the beautiful result of our marriage and decision to raise a family. From the first time I witnessed him smile, I knew there was something extra special about him.
You see, Ryan has his daddy's mouth. In fact, from the nose down he is all Daddy. This means every time I see my sweet little boy smile, I see Brenton. When Ryan's happy face beams at me I think, "that's the same smile I fell in love with!" and fall in love with it all over again. I look for hundreds of reasons a day to see Ryan smile and remember the way it felt to fall in love with a green-eyed boy from Kansas. But, Ryan's eyes are brown; a deep, rich, chocolatey brown that's so dark from far away you can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. In short, Ryan has my eyes. It's one of the few physical features he got from me, and I love it. Especially when he smiles, because not only do I get to see the smile I fell in love with, but also the way my eyes look every time Brenton smiles at me. I get the entire package of my husband's smile and my reaction with one look from my son. It's amazing, and I can't get enough of it!
I'm not sure what Jackson's facial features will look like, but I know he'll be the perfect blend of me and Brenton. And who knows? Maybe he'll have my mouth and Brenton's eyes, so Brenton can experience the same thing I do every time Ryan smiles at me!
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In a few months, Ryan's whole world is going to change. It seems he senses this, and has been vying for our attention nearly every second through both good and not-so-good behavior. In a way, it's been helpful to have him pull a personality 180 now, so we have some time to plan and figure out how to help him through this major transition. We're all adjusting and trying new ways to help him feel loved, yet not express his cravings for attention through negative behavior. We have good days and hard days, and almost everything we try takes us two steps forward one week, one step back the next, but it's getting better. While it's definitely requiring more time and effort on my part, Ryan is making me a better mom, and helping me realize not all techniques work for every child.
You see, Ryan has his daddy's mouth. In fact, from the nose down he is all Daddy. This means every time I see my sweet little boy smile, I see Brenton. When Ryan's happy face beams at me I think, "that's the same smile I fell in love with!" and fall in love with it all over again. I look for hundreds of reasons a day to see Ryan smile and remember the way it felt to fall in love with a green-eyed boy from Kansas. But, Ryan's eyes are brown; a deep, rich, chocolatey brown that's so dark from far away you can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. In short, Ryan has my eyes. It's one of the few physical features he got from me, and I love it. Especially when he smiles, because not only do I get to see the smile I fell in love with, but also the way my eyes look every time Brenton smiles at me. I get the entire package of my husband's smile and my reaction with one look from my son. It's amazing, and I can't get enough of it!
I'm not sure what Jackson's facial features will look like, but I know he'll be the perfect blend of me and Brenton. And who knows? Maybe he'll have my mouth and Brenton's eyes, so Brenton can experience the same thing I do every time Ryan smiles at me!
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Baby #2's Big Announcement
I know it's been almost a month since we found out the gender our second baby, but I was holding off blogging about it until we got the pictures back from our friend and professional photographer, Dusty Draper. So while it may not be a surprise for most of you, we are so excited to announce Ryan's soon-to-arrive baby brother!
After my ultrasound, Brenton and I went to the store to get some blue balloons, then put them inside a big box for Ryan. Here's the moment the box opened!
After my ultrasound, Brenton and I went to the store to get some blue balloons, then put them inside a big box for Ryan. Here's the moment the box opened!
Most likely Ryan was far more excited about the balloons than the fact he's getting a brother, but the moment of surprise was worth it! We were elated to celebrate that special moment as a family. All four of us!
Showing Ryan Jackson's ultrasound picture. Ryan kept saying, "Oh! That's Jackson! My baby brother!
We are overjoyed to bring another sweet, precious little boy into our family. Daddy has been very accommodating by moving his office into our bedroom to make a playroom for the boys. We found an old dresser that he's converting into toy shelves, and I've been busy organizing, planning, sewing and crocheting for our baby Jackson. It's amazing to me how the second I found out who our baby was, I knew right away that it was always supposed to be Jackson. I truly felt a sense that he belongs with us, and he's coming at just the right time. We are so excited!
Jack Jack's first pair of shoes, crocheted by Mommy
Monday, March 4, 2013
Genderly Speaking
I've been a bit lazy with posts during my second trimester. As I mentioned previously, this pregnancy has been far more difficult than Ryan's. My nausea slowly ebbed away during weeks 13-16, and I thought I would finally get some energy back. Unfortunately, I've spent most of the past two months in continued agony not from nausea, but from horrible migraines and severe headaches. My doctor believes them to be due to my ever fluctuating hormones and prescribed Riboflavin (vitamin B2) for the pain. It took about two weeks before I noticed even a slight difference, but now the headaches are manageable. However, sometimes the medicine decides not to work and I'm stuck on the couch for the greater part of an afternoon with an ice pack to my forehead. Who new the baby would be so high maintenance this early on?
Currently I'm 18 weeks, and definitely look very pregnant (see photos at end of post). I'm in stretchy shirts and maternity jeans, getting back pain from the extra weight, and experiencing the joys of insomnia as I try to find a comfortable position each night. This stage in the baby's development also has me looking with great anticipation towards my 20-week ultrasound, when I find out if I'm carrying a boy or girl. Our big day is on March 15th, and I am SO ready to find out!
As the day of gender declaration draws ever closer, I've been thinking a lot about how I will feel once I know who is coming next in our family. I was fairly certain my entire first pregnancy Ryan was a boy. It wasn't really a shock when he proudly showed off his anatomy during my ultrasound. But this one has been a bit trickier. In the beginning, I sincerely hoped for a girl. I thought almost daily, "please give me little girl to put frilly dresses on and make dozens of hair bows for!" Of course it will be fun if Little Peanut is a she-nut, and with this pregnancy being so different from Ryan's I often wonder if the signs are pointed that way, but as the weeks draw closer to finally knowing, I've often longingly imagined how fun it would be to give Ryan a little brother as his best buddy.
So here it is, my thoughts on our second born be it a girl:
If little Angela Rose is on her way, I will be over-the-moon thrilled to welcome a new princess into the family. I've had her Beauty and the Beast room decor planned for years, and you should see my Pinterest board for crochet projects, as almost all of them are baby girl clothing patterns. I would be overjoyed to raise someone who appreciates glittery shoes and tea parties. I tear up just thinking about showing her my treasured paper doll collection. Believe me, at some point in time I will have a daughter, whether it's this pregnancy or another one, and when that day arrives my "forever a little girl playing princess" spirit will be ecstatic.
Thoughts on our second born be it a boy:
If Jackson Rafael is happily growing inside my belly, I will truly be delighted to have another little boy come into our family. I think there's something special about having two of the same gender in a row. Ryan will have a best buddy for life. Every time I ask him if Jackson is coming he says, "yep! And we play trains!" We have a superhero-themed nursery idea for little Jackson, just like Jack-Jack from The Incredibles. Also, having a boy would make things a little easier both mentally and financially. We pretty much have everything we need for another boy, and I'd feel a bit more prepared in raising him because I'll have had a 3 year head start with his big brother. I know how to potty train with little boy equipment in mind. Our house is bursting with trains, cars, planes, and dinosaurs. Jackson would be coming home to a little boy's paradise complete with sandbox, basketball hoop, and adoring big brother to show him the perfect way to pick his nose when Mom's not looking. And let's face it, little boys adore their mamas forever, which makes them pretty easy to love.
Basically, what I'm trying to convey is I'm being honest when I say we are very excited no matter who is on the way, we just really want to know!! I'm grateful technology is so advanced these days that I can find out 20 weeks before the baby comes what to name him/her. Isn't that awesome?
Here's a photo update of my growing belly, weeks 11-18
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Currently I'm 18 weeks, and definitely look very pregnant (see photos at end of post). I'm in stretchy shirts and maternity jeans, getting back pain from the extra weight, and experiencing the joys of insomnia as I try to find a comfortable position each night. This stage in the baby's development also has me looking with great anticipation towards my 20-week ultrasound, when I find out if I'm carrying a boy or girl. Our big day is on March 15th, and I am SO ready to find out!
As the day of gender declaration draws ever closer, I've been thinking a lot about how I will feel once I know who is coming next in our family. I was fairly certain my entire first pregnancy Ryan was a boy. It wasn't really a shock when he proudly showed off his anatomy during my ultrasound. But this one has been a bit trickier. In the beginning, I sincerely hoped for a girl. I thought almost daily, "please give me little girl to put frilly dresses on and make dozens of hair bows for!" Of course it will be fun if Little Peanut is a she-nut, and with this pregnancy being so different from Ryan's I often wonder if the signs are pointed that way, but as the weeks draw closer to finally knowing, I've often longingly imagined how fun it would be to give Ryan a little brother as his best buddy.
So here it is, my thoughts on our second born be it a girl:
If little Angela Rose is on her way, I will be over-the-moon thrilled to welcome a new princess into the family. I've had her Beauty and the Beast room decor planned for years, and you should see my Pinterest board for crochet projects, as almost all of them are baby girl clothing patterns. I would be overjoyed to raise someone who appreciates glittery shoes and tea parties. I tear up just thinking about showing her my treasured paper doll collection. Believe me, at some point in time I will have a daughter, whether it's this pregnancy or another one, and when that day arrives my "forever a little girl playing princess" spirit will be ecstatic.
Thoughts on our second born be it a boy:
If Jackson Rafael is happily growing inside my belly, I will truly be delighted to have another little boy come into our family. I think there's something special about having two of the same gender in a row. Ryan will have a best buddy for life. Every time I ask him if Jackson is coming he says, "yep! And we play trains!" We have a superhero-themed nursery idea for little Jackson, just like Jack-Jack from The Incredibles. Also, having a boy would make things a little easier both mentally and financially. We pretty much have everything we need for another boy, and I'd feel a bit more prepared in raising him because I'll have had a 3 year head start with his big brother. I know how to potty train with little boy equipment in mind. Our house is bursting with trains, cars, planes, and dinosaurs. Jackson would be coming home to a little boy's paradise complete with sandbox, basketball hoop, and adoring big brother to show him the perfect way to pick his nose when Mom's not looking. And let's face it, little boys adore their mamas forever, which makes them pretty easy to love.
Basically, what I'm trying to convey is I'm being honest when I say we are very excited no matter who is on the way, we just really want to know!! I'm grateful technology is so advanced these days that I can find out 20 weeks before the baby comes what to name him/her. Isn't that awesome?
Here's a photo update of my growing belly, weeks 11-18
I didn't take a photo for week 12, but I did have an ultrasound, so here's a picture of our little one!
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Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Cesarean for Life
Indulge me for a moment, because this is the only time I'll bring it up. After this post I will look ahead optimistically and enjoy the perks (be it ever so few) of the hand I've been dealt. Today is not that day. Today, I'm writing about a privilege given to most women that I will never get to have. Ever. It is the privilege of delivering my children vaginally. "How on earth is that a privilege?!" you might ask. "You don't have to deal with hours of agonizing contractions and pushing! You just get to lie on a table, get sliced open and in minutes have a perfect little baby on your chest. Don't tell me you don't have the upper hand!" To those who think vaginal delivery isn't a privilege, for those who are debating on whether or not to request a c-section instead of a vaginal birth, to those who've previously had a c-section and are scared to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), or to women who have received the news that they, too, are limited to only cesarean births, this post is for you.
I'm currently 12 weeks pregnant with my second child. My son Ryan was a normal pregnancy, but a very traumatic birth. For the full details, you can read his birth story here. For the abridged version, Ryan's head was delivered vaginally, but he had severe shoulder dystocia preventing the rest of his body from being delivered. Often the doctor will break the baby's collar bone to pull him out as quickly as possible. Ryan, however, had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck so tightly that if his body was pulled out it would have strangled him in seconds. Instead, my doctor pushed Ryan's head back up the birth canal and rushed me into an emergency c-section. The surgery itself was also dangerous because Ryan was so big and had to be physically yanked from my birth canal. Freaked out yet? It gets worse. Because my body had pushed for so long then went through emergency surgery, my uterus quit and I hemorrhaged over 2 liters of blood while my baby fought for his life in the NICU. Yes, this is the abridged version of the story.
I'm telling you all of this because it needs to be made perfectly clear that cesarean births are NOT the ideal. Even if they are planned, it is NOT the best situation. How do I know? Because I literally experienced the worst of both versions in the same day. I'm that girl who when all the moms are swapping birth stories says, "I can top that one!" And trust me when I say it is not a desirable title. No one wants to be that girl.
So why am I bringing this up now? That was two and a half years ago. Well, I'm pregnant again. Yay! I get a second chance at an amazing delivery the way I always dreamed it would be. The kind where after hours of exhausting labor I can push my baby into the world and hear it's beautiful, magical cry. My husband will kiss my forehead, hand me our baby, and I will get to cradle the precious miracle I carried for nine months inside of me. Then I will cover the baby with kisses, nurse him/her, and know that all of the treacherous months of pregnancy were worth it! Doesn't that sound wonderful? Amazing? For those who have had this experience I bet your eyes glistened for a minute as you recalled the glory and triumph of doing something more amazing than a superhero, not to mention a gazillion times more rewarding.
Guess what? I will never get to have that. Nope. Not ever.
After Ryan's delivery I was told by my doctors I could only have cesarean sections from here on out. At the time I was grateful to still be able to have children, so I counted my blessings and in the back of my mind thought, "Maybe I'll still be able to do a VBAC. I bet it's possible. They're just saying that to play it safe." Amazingly, my wonderful baby boy and I made a full recovery, so my hopes to possibly do a VBAC increased just a little bit more.
When I moved to Kentucky I became involved in a group called ICAN. It focuses on providing emotional support for women who've had c-sections, and helps them get the facts about safe VBACs. I learned for many moms a VBAC is possible. I met strong, wonderful women who shared their experiences of VBACs and how rewarding it was. These women inspired and informed me of great OBGYNs in the area who supported VBACs. I'll be forever grateful to them because when I found out I was pregnant with Baby #2, I knew just the right doctor to see. She is a champion for VBACs, and has several success stories to her name. I knew if any doctor could help me, she could.
Today I had my 12 week appointment. I looked at my doctor expectantly, knowing she was about to tell me whether or not we could try for a VBAC. I could read her face before she even spoke a word. Nope. It wasn't possible. She told me how brave I was for surviving Ryan's birth, how hard she was going to work to make my next c-section a truly wonderful experience, but the verdict was in. Cesarean for life.
I always kind of knew that would be the answer, but it's still hard to hear I will never get to cradle my baby seconds after its birth. I will never again go through the triumph of delivering my baby the way God intended. Is it a miracle that I'm able to have children still? Yes. Was this option available back in the day? No. I know all of that. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I get to plan the actual day our baby is delivered. And yes, the whole process from walking in the door to Baby being born is about an hour. I know all of that, too. The point I'm trying to make is if I could have it the way it's supposed to be, I would. I so badly want the birth experience every mother dreams of, and now I know that will never happen. Also, with each repeat cesarean I build up scar tissue in my uterus, thus continually limiting my ability to have more children. I'll be lucky, I mean very, very lucky if we can have four kids. I've always wanted a big family. I dreamed of having 5 or 6. It's heartbreaking to know that's physically not an option anymore.
As I said, I'm going to focus on the positive side of it from here on out. I will find ways to grow and learn from the situation in front of me. But today, I'm mourning a loss. The loss to be normal. Who knew that was such a gift in the first place?
So for those of you who don't think vaginal delivery is a privilege, thank your lucky stars that whether you choose to have children or not, the fact that you can vaginally is in fact, a precious gift. For those who are thinking about opting for a c-section for no medical reason, or are too afraid to try a VBAC even though your doctor says you can, please reconsider. It is of course, your choice, but be grateful you actually have a choice, and choose wisely. Finally, for the few who, like me, have been branded with cesarean for life, feel free to follow my blog. Together, hopefully we can make this a positive albeit not ideal experience.
I'm currently 12 weeks pregnant with my second child. My son Ryan was a normal pregnancy, but a very traumatic birth. For the full details, you can read his birth story here. For the abridged version, Ryan's head was delivered vaginally, but he had severe shoulder dystocia preventing the rest of his body from being delivered. Often the doctor will break the baby's collar bone to pull him out as quickly as possible. Ryan, however, had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck so tightly that if his body was pulled out it would have strangled him in seconds. Instead, my doctor pushed Ryan's head back up the birth canal and rushed me into an emergency c-section. The surgery itself was also dangerous because Ryan was so big and had to be physically yanked from my birth canal. Freaked out yet? It gets worse. Because my body had pushed for so long then went through emergency surgery, my uterus quit and I hemorrhaged over 2 liters of blood while my baby fought for his life in the NICU. Yes, this is the abridged version of the story.
I'm telling you all of this because it needs to be made perfectly clear that cesarean births are NOT the ideal. Even if they are planned, it is NOT the best situation. How do I know? Because I literally experienced the worst of both versions in the same day. I'm that girl who when all the moms are swapping birth stories says, "I can top that one!" And trust me when I say it is not a desirable title. No one wants to be that girl.
So why am I bringing this up now? That was two and a half years ago. Well, I'm pregnant again. Yay! I get a second chance at an amazing delivery the way I always dreamed it would be. The kind where after hours of exhausting labor I can push my baby into the world and hear it's beautiful, magical cry. My husband will kiss my forehead, hand me our baby, and I will get to cradle the precious miracle I carried for nine months inside of me. Then I will cover the baby with kisses, nurse him/her, and know that all of the treacherous months of pregnancy were worth it! Doesn't that sound wonderful? Amazing? For those who have had this experience I bet your eyes glistened for a minute as you recalled the glory and triumph of doing something more amazing than a superhero, not to mention a gazillion times more rewarding.
Guess what? I will never get to have that. Nope. Not ever.
After Ryan's delivery I was told by my doctors I could only have cesarean sections from here on out. At the time I was grateful to still be able to have children, so I counted my blessings and in the back of my mind thought, "Maybe I'll still be able to do a VBAC. I bet it's possible. They're just saying that to play it safe." Amazingly, my wonderful baby boy and I made a full recovery, so my hopes to possibly do a VBAC increased just a little bit more.
When I moved to Kentucky I became involved in a group called ICAN. It focuses on providing emotional support for women who've had c-sections, and helps them get the facts about safe VBACs. I learned for many moms a VBAC is possible. I met strong, wonderful women who shared their experiences of VBACs and how rewarding it was. These women inspired and informed me of great OBGYNs in the area who supported VBACs. I'll be forever grateful to them because when I found out I was pregnant with Baby #2, I knew just the right doctor to see. She is a champion for VBACs, and has several success stories to her name. I knew if any doctor could help me, she could.
Today I had my 12 week appointment. I looked at my doctor expectantly, knowing she was about to tell me whether or not we could try for a VBAC. I could read her face before she even spoke a word. Nope. It wasn't possible. She told me how brave I was for surviving Ryan's birth, how hard she was going to work to make my next c-section a truly wonderful experience, but the verdict was in. Cesarean for life.
I always kind of knew that would be the answer, but it's still hard to hear I will never get to cradle my baby seconds after its birth. I will never again go through the triumph of delivering my baby the way God intended. Is it a miracle that I'm able to have children still? Yes. Was this option available back in the day? No. I know all of that. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I get to plan the actual day our baby is delivered. And yes, the whole process from walking in the door to Baby being born is about an hour. I know all of that, too. The point I'm trying to make is if I could have it the way it's supposed to be, I would. I so badly want the birth experience every mother dreams of, and now I know that will never happen. Also, with each repeat cesarean I build up scar tissue in my uterus, thus continually limiting my ability to have more children. I'll be lucky, I mean very, very lucky if we can have four kids. I've always wanted a big family. I dreamed of having 5 or 6. It's heartbreaking to know that's physically not an option anymore.
As I said, I'm going to focus on the positive side of it from here on out. I will find ways to grow and learn from the situation in front of me. But today, I'm mourning a loss. The loss to be normal. Who knew that was such a gift in the first place?
So for those of you who don't think vaginal delivery is a privilege, thank your lucky stars that whether you choose to have children or not, the fact that you can vaginally is in fact, a precious gift. For those who are thinking about opting for a c-section for no medical reason, or are too afraid to try a VBAC even though your doctor says you can, please reconsider. It is of course, your choice, but be grateful you actually have a choice, and choose wisely. Finally, for the few who, like me, have been branded with cesarean for life, feel free to follow my blog. Together, hopefully we can make this a positive albeit not ideal experience.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Been There: Done That (or not)
I've already been through this whole pregnancy thing before. At 10 1/2 weeks, you'd think I've got a pretty good handle on everything. After all, nothing's new so it should feel doable this time around as I'm not working full time and can nap whenever Ryan does. How naive I was to believe simply because I've done this before it would be the same or even easier!
Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING about this pregnancy is the same as Ryan's. With Ryan I felt sick, but during the day it was pretty manageable for the most part. I can count the number of times on one hand I threw up during those nine months. Not so with this little one. I am sick, sick, sick, all the time. It is relentless! At this point in Ryan's pregnancy I'd gained over 10 pounds and counting. This time I've lost three and counting. All I wanted to eat with Ryan was sugary things. Cake, candy, chocolate, ice cream, you name it, my sweet tooth wanted it. This time all I want is salt. Crackers, soup, chips, pretzels, pickles (mmmm, pickles), if it's salty I'll eat it. With Ryan my acne was worse than a 15-year-old boy's. Now, oddly enough, my face seems to be clearing up. Weird, right? I was so weepy when I expected Ryan. Any time I saw baby anything I sobbed with excitement and fondly caressed my growing tummy. This time around I'm more cranky and some days I even think, "was this really what I was praying for 8 months for? How am I going to do this again?" I think it's just a different balance of hormones than before, because deep down I am truly thrilled and grateful to be pregnant. It's frustrating when my hormones tell me I should feel otherwise.
Basically, it's true when they say every pregnancy is different. My family is convinced I'm carrying a girl this time because my symptoms are so opposite. That may be true, and we would be THRILLED if little Angela Rose is on the way. But we've also got a 50/50 chance that Jackson Rafael's growing rapidly in my belly, and we'd be delighted to have him, too. Besides, if it is Jackson and symptoms are a good indicator of personality, he's going to be nothing like his big brother. Either way the adventure is speeding along, and we're so grateful to be blessed with another little miracle. Here's to hoping my nausea ends with the first trimester in a few more weeks. Just the thought of feeling this miserable for the entire nine months is making me cry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go throw up for the fourth time today.
Here's an update on my growing belly progress. I was showing much faster with Ryan. This one seems to be taking his/her time. I'm okay with that. :-)
Week 4
Week 7
Week 8
Week 9
Week 10
Funny how as each week goes by I look sicker and sicker. Very accurate pictures, indeed.
Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING about this pregnancy is the same as Ryan's. With Ryan I felt sick, but during the day it was pretty manageable for the most part. I can count the number of times on one hand I threw up during those nine months. Not so with this little one. I am sick, sick, sick, all the time. It is relentless! At this point in Ryan's pregnancy I'd gained over 10 pounds and counting. This time I've lost three and counting. All I wanted to eat with Ryan was sugary things. Cake, candy, chocolate, ice cream, you name it, my sweet tooth wanted it. This time all I want is salt. Crackers, soup, chips, pretzels, pickles (mmmm, pickles), if it's salty I'll eat it. With Ryan my acne was worse than a 15-year-old boy's. Now, oddly enough, my face seems to be clearing up. Weird, right? I was so weepy when I expected Ryan. Any time I saw baby anything I sobbed with excitement and fondly caressed my growing tummy. This time around I'm more cranky and some days I even think, "was this really what I was praying for 8 months for? How am I going to do this again?" I think it's just a different balance of hormones than before, because deep down I am truly thrilled and grateful to be pregnant. It's frustrating when my hormones tell me I should feel otherwise.
Basically, it's true when they say every pregnancy is different. My family is convinced I'm carrying a girl this time because my symptoms are so opposite. That may be true, and we would be THRILLED if little Angela Rose is on the way. But we've also got a 50/50 chance that Jackson Rafael's growing rapidly in my belly, and we'd be delighted to have him, too. Besides, if it is Jackson and symptoms are a good indicator of personality, he's going to be nothing like his big brother. Either way the adventure is speeding along, and we're so grateful to be blessed with another little miracle. Here's to hoping my nausea ends with the first trimester in a few more weeks. Just the thought of feeling this miserable for the entire nine months is making me cry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go throw up for the fourth time today.
Here's an update on my growing belly progress. I was showing much faster with Ryan. This one seems to be taking his/her time. I'm okay with that. :-)
Week 4
Week 5
Week 6
Week 10
Funny how as each week goes by I look sicker and sicker. Very accurate pictures, indeed.
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